Harry Potter and the City of Dreams
by Appliciousness
Summary: Harry and Hermione visit San Francisco, and meet a mysterious stranger. Warning: this is an irreverent, ridiculous crack fic. Read at your own risk.


Author's Note: I visited San Francisco a few weeks ago, and I had some opinions. This is completely OOC, not at all canon, and probably will offend some people. So read at your own risk. :P

* * *

Harry Potter and the City of Dreams

Harry marveled at the city streets before him, ogling everything.

"What is _that_?" he said, pointing.

Hermione frowned. "That's an umm…person."

"It's a hippie. It's literally a human with blue hair on one side of their head, and purple on the other. And...is that a needle sticking out of their arm?"

Hermione took a whiff of the air, then stepped widely to the side of the homeless people stretched out on the sidewalk, asleep in tents.

"Harry, are you sure this place is safe?" she asked.

"I dunno, but look, there's another group of people in expensive suits. And there's a trio of men with identical hipster beards. My god, what is this place?"

"I see you're new here," said a man with a deep Scandinavian accent. "Welcome to San Francisco, city of dreams."

Harry turned around to see a slender man with flaming red hair, who was standing at the street corner, typing something on his cell phone. "Nice to see another foreigner in the area, even if you are Brits." His eyes scanned them. "Want to grab some sushi?"

"Umm…no thank you."

"Coffee then?" he said. "Least I could do for the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Ahh," said Harry. "You're a wizard?"

"Yeah," he said. "This city is a little strange, in more ways than one, and you'll need help to navigate it. Join me?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, shrugged, and followed the strange man.

"So," said Hermione, as they entered the coffee shop. "What's your name?"

"Reginald Alabaster the Third. You can call me Red." They approached the counter. "What do you want to drink?"

"Earl Grey, please," said Hermione.

"Tea?" He made a face. "Well, it's better than chamomile, I suppose. I'll take a coffee, black. You'll have the same, Harry?"

"Sure."

"What's wrong with tea?" asked Hermione, as Red paid for the drinks.

"It's a bunch of flavorless crushed up flowers in water. It just exists to make the British feel special. If you're going to drink water, just drink water, not some weak flavored shit."

Harry couldn't help smiling. He had always secretly thought that the British fascination with tea was kind of absurd.

Hermione fumed. "That's ridiculous. And could you not curse so much?"

"Oh, but you have to curse in San Francisco," said Red. "It's the law."

Two guys entered the coffee shop, the bell dinging just as one of them dropped the loudest f-bomb they'd ever heard. Hermione jumped, while Harry smirked. "Nice trick," he said. "Voice displacement?"

"Nope," said Red, sipping his drink. "People here just don't care. It's probably because the population is white liberals who don't give a shit about anything except the environment." He shook his head in disgust. "Commies."

"So why do you even live here?" asked Hermione, folding her arms in disgust.

"I have a successful tech business," he said. "Which I build from the ground up, against great odds. I might sell eventually, but it's making me enough money right now that I don't care."

"Ever thought about moving to England?" asked Harry.

"Weather is too shitty," he said. "And too much communism. At least here we pay for our own health insurance."

Hermione sighed. "You don't even-it's not _communism_ to support the poor—"

She went on for a few more minutes, while Red just sipped his coffee, nonplussed. He definitely seemed to enjoy pissing her off, but Harry was more focused on how the sun reflected off his bright red hair.

"Anyway," said Harry, sipping his coffee. "You said this place was dangerous? In what way, exactly?"

"Ahh, that…" He set down his cup. "So, you know this city is not what it seems." He shifted his eyes, leaned in close. "People tend to...catch _the gay_ here."

"_What?_ You cannot catch 'the gay,'" said Hermione sternly. "It's not a contagious disease."

Reginald looked thoughtful. "So, what if there was a wizard who wanted to promote equality, in a world of rigid inequality? But was also interested in creating a population of people who were disposed to listen to his beliefs, a social experiment on a massive scale? Veela magic is quite potent when introduced into the water supply."

"_Come on_," said Hermione. "Even magic can't change people to that extent."

"I beg to differ. Look outside. What do you notice?"

Hermione turned around. "I see a bunch of people walking."

"Look closer. What do you notice about the way they look? Their clothing?"

"Umm…most of them are wearing cardigans? And jeans?"

"Not just jeans. _Skinny_ jeans. Their shoes are all some kind of white, overpriced converse. Their hair is the same, gelled almost in exactly the same styles. Have you ever seen this kind of uniformity before? It's not natural. They've been_ changed_."

He leaned back. "If you listen to them talking, it's exactly like a twitter feed. Everything is vapid and of little importance. They all think they have original thoughts, but none of them do. Even the hippies are manufactured to be all the same."

A ragged woman walked into the café, and nobody batted an eye as she walked up to the counter, took a muffin, and walked off, muttering under her breath.

Red shook his head. "People like her were changed, just not in the right way. The people who are able to hold out on the metrosexual contagion have to be truly strong willed."

Harry was staring at Red, feeling something hit him like a ton of bricks. Something _wonderful._

"Even if what you're describing is true," said Hermione. "What does wearing converse and skinny jeans have to do with homosexuality?"

"Oh...nothing," said the man. "Everyone just looks super gay, even the straight people. Of course, I've got nothing against gay people, but I wish everyone wouldn't act like pansies." He glanced at Harry. "Makes it hard to sort out people's preferences."

There was a moment of silence, and Harry started giggling.

"So, umm…okay," said Hermione, slowly. "I think it's time for us to go. Come on, Harry."

Harry took a sip of his coffee, still giggling. "Ahh, Red. You're amazing, truly. Your skin looks like alabaster, did you know that? Can I touch it?"

"Sure," he said, extending an arm, and Harry started rubbing it. Within seconds, they'd scooted their chairs closer to each other, until they were practically in each other's laps.

"Oh my god," Hermione said, gaping. "What did you put in Harry's coffee?"

"Nothing," said Red, grinning impishly. "I told you, it's in the water. Pretty soon, he'll be buying exclusively organic produce like the rest of them, shopping at dinky marts that smell like weed."

"No, you did something!" She gripped Harry's shoulder, pleading. "Harry, please, let's go."

"Chill out, Hermione," said Harry, not taking his eyes off Red. "We just got here."

Red leaned in closer to Harry, but kept his eyes on her. "You know, Hermione, you're rather pretty. You'd look even better if you kept your mouth closed." He pantomimed it on himself.

"Shove it! _Come on_, Harry!"

Red laughed riotously. "Yeah, alright I was just going to take the boy, but you're too much fun. How about this? We start a polycule—"

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him out of the café, while he was kicking and screaming. "No, Red, _I'll come back for you_—"

With a crack, Hermione Apparated them back to England.

* * *

A few days later, Ron caught up with Harry and Hermione at lunch.

"So, how was your trip?"

"Harry fell in love with a redheaded man," said Hermione, biting into her sandwich.

Harry winced, glowering at her.

"Wait, really?"

"Yep, and get this, his name was, Reginald Alabaster the Third."

Ron took a step back. "What the...Percy? You met my BROTHER?"

"What!?"

"Yeah, that bloke shoved off to Finland and adopted a stupid fake accent, and Reginald Alabaster the Third was his drag king name!"

Hermione turned to Harry, who was trying to sink into the floor, and patted his shoulder. "Don't feel bad, Harry, at least you know there's plenty of other Weasleys-"

Harry stood up and left, and Hermione started laughing. "Hey, Harry, why don't you just _chill out_?"


End file.
